


Man of the House

by SallyExactly



Series: The Timeless Charity Project [2]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: First Meeting, Gen, Rufus Carlin Scholarship Fund, Stretch Goal Reward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21962632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallyExactly/pseuds/SallyExactly
Summary: This is the story of the day that changed Rufus's life.(In October 2019 a charity project was kicked off to donate to various important causes in the names of our favorite Timeless characters. See inside for further details on the charity project, including how to donate to unlock further stretch goal fics, and in doing so give back to great causes!)
Series: The Timeless Charity Project [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522553
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Man of the House

Rufus always had the best science fair project. _That_ wasn’t the hard part. His own solar cell hooked up to a battery and a lightbulb, built from stuff he scrounged from the garbage and the neighbors’ garbage? A robot from castoff parts from the computer lab in the fancy school a few miles away? A mini monorail powered by coffee pods? Simple.

He plucked nervously at his shirt as it pulled at his shoulders. Shirt too tight even for his nothing body, pants too short and stitched in the back where Rich Tannen had knocked him onto the pavement, shoes too small, he looked like a clown. He used to feel bad that people were looking at him and secretly laughing and pitying him, but now he knew no one cared enough to do either. But Mom’s winter coat had come from a garage sale five years ago and was more hole than coat by now. He could make his “nice” clothes last a little longer.

His stomach rumbled, but he was used to ignoring it. The hot lunch he got at school never made up for it.

And Mom always got food on the table for dinner. Always. Killed herself doing it. But, see… dinner was a zero-sum game. The more he ate, the less there was for Kevin and Mom. The equation had a nice, neat solution.

Only… he glanced at the clock. Only twenty-one-and-a-half hours until more lunch.

He shifted from one foot to the other, his old shoes pinching his toes. He craned his neck to try to see where the “judges” were: Mr. Matthews, the math teacher, Miss Hayes, the science teacher, and Mr. Robinson, the other science teacher. And supposedly a “special guest,” but whoever that was, Rufus was pretty sure either he wasn’t gonna show or he wasn’t gonna be that special. No one special came here.

Then he snuck a glance in the other direction, where Brandi was standing by her posterboard of which nail polish lasted the longest. For a second he thought she was finally gonna look at him, and his heart pounded. Oh, God, she looked so cute with her hair swept up like that, and that little red skirt…

Then she didn’t. Maybe better that way. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew what he’d seen in the mirror that morning… and every morning for the past two years. He had about as much muscle as a floppy old earthworm. And his face had more craters and bumps than the Mare Orientale Basin. No wonder she never looked at him.

Then the judges came around the corner, and Rufus did a double take. Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe he shouldn’t have pretended not to be hungry and given Kevin most of his breakfast that morning. Because that couldn’t possibly be…

The man who looked an _awful lot_ like Connor Mason was being followed around by a guy with a big camera. _Was_ that really him? Why would he come _here?_

The adults stopped at Michael’s project, and the teachers blocked Rufus’s view, making him vibrate with impatience. Michael had built Lego cars and seen which design stood up best to being dropped from a second-story landing, which was more about his weird and intense desire to smash things than any actual science, and Rufus could _100% guarantee_ that he didn’t even know who Connor Mason was.

He watched the clock in silent agony as the judges made their slow way down the aisle. _No! You don’t care about bread mold! Come talk to meeee!_ he pleaded silently. He fidgeted with his ragged sleeves and shifted from foot to foot.

The grownups got close enough for Rufus to hear the fancy British accent, and his fidgety impatience increased by an order of magnitude. God, Hell was being twenty feet from your scientific idol and watching him look bored while making polite noises at someone who’d done a taste test of orange juice.

Finally _finally_ they turned away from “which pencils last the longest” and got to him. Rufus knew he would cherish how the bored polite look slid off Connor Mason’s face, and his eyebrows went up when he looked at Rufus’s model, for the rest of his life.

“Well,” Mr. Mason said. “What do we have here?”

“Mr. Mason, this is Rufus Carlin, one of our best and brightest,” Miss Hayes said, with a sharp look at Rufus: _don’t mess this up._

“Uh,” Rufus said, holding out his hand. What did you say to _Connor Mason?_ “Hi. Mr. Cason.”

… he knew enough about plate tectonics to know that the chances of an intracontinental rift opening beneath his feet and swallowing him, here in West Chicago, were way, way too low.

But Mr. Mason pretended not to notice. “Pleasure to meet you, Rufus.” They shook hands. “Is this… the _entire_ city of Chicago?”

And this— Rufus could do. This part was easy. “Yeah,” he said. “And here’s the monorail.” He switched it on.

“Wh—” Mr. Mason was visibly startled. “Show me the battery.”

Rufus pulled up the battered table cloth, scrubbed clean of blood and other bodily fluids, and showed the little bioreactor hidden under the table. Mr. Mason hitched up his fancy trousers and squatted to peer at it.

“… are those _coffee pods?_ ”

“Yeah.” Rufus knelt beside him to explain it to him.

The next five minutes were the best of Rufus’s life. When Mr. Robinson said, “Excuse me, Mr. Mason, but we need to finish the judging before the end of the school day,” Rufus wanted to throw something at him.

“Ah, yes… of course.” Mr. Mason straightened up, looking not particularly eager to move on. “Rufus, perhaps you and I could talk after the fair?”

Rufus’s heart leapt at the chance… and then fell painfully back to earth. “Sorry, Mr. Mason.” Each syllable was painful. “I’d love to, but…”

If he were late picking up Kevin, Kevin would get kicked out of care. If Kevin got kicked out of care, Mom would lose her job or Kevin might get taken by social workers or both. He couldn’t. He just _couldn’t_.

It killed him to finish, “But I can’t be late to pick up my brother.”

Miss Hayes gave him a sympathetic look. Mr. Robinson had already moved on to Tommy.

“Right.” Could Rufus imagine that Mr. Mason looked disappointed? “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Rufus.”

“Yeah… I mean, yes, me too.” God, he should just stop talking. He should just stop trying. He should just… crawl under the table and hide with the bioreactor.

They shook hands again, and Mr. Mason moved on. It took every ounce of manliness Rufus had not to let his eyes fill with tears. All the other kids already thought he was a pathetic nerd. He couldn’t _cry_ , too.

The bell rang, and he hurried to pack up his model and the bioreactor. He snuck one glance over his shoulder, but Mr. Mason had already left.

He snuck out the back way before Rich Tannen could find him and smash his precious project. That helped him put on a happier face before he picked Kevin up. It wasn’t Kevin’s fault. Rufus didn’t want him to think anything was wrong.

He held Kevin’s hand tight as they walked home. Once they were home, he made Kevin hang up his jacket and go to the bathroom, and got him a big glass of water, the Carlin house version of an after school snack. Rufus got out of his “nice” clothes into his other pair of pants, got Kevin settled with some toys, and fixed one of the toys whose head had fallen off. Then he plopped down on the floor and dug his algebra textbook out of his raggedy backpack. Numbers were easy. Numbers soothed him.

Except tonight he struggled to concentrate. He thought about Brandi, and Mr. Mason, and if Mom would have to work late again and would Rufus need to fix dinner, which was easier some nights than others and not at all easy on nights like tonight towards the end of the month. And about Brandi, and about what Rich had threatened to do to him next time he caught him, and if he should have wired the monorail differently, and…

He finished his algebra homework too fast and moved on to English, which sucked. He just didn’t _care_ about this poem. But he cared about getting out of here, and getting Mom and Kevin out of here, and to do that he needed ultra mega high grades… and to get those he had to write about this stupid poem.

Which was stupid.

The phone rang. He scrambled up. “Hello?” It was probably Mom, but if he answered the phone with “Hey, Mom!” she would kill him.

“Hello, is this Rufus?”

It— wasn’t Mom, it was—

“Yeah— yes.”

“This is Connor Mason.”

Rufus blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “How’d you get my number?”

“From the principal.”

That made sense.

“I was calling to invite you— and your mother and brother, of course— to dinner. My treat.”

Um. What?

Rufus stared at a stain in the wall.

“… Rufus?”

“Yeah,” he blurted. “Um, I mean, my mom’s not home yet though. So…”

He heard the key in the front lock.

“Oh. Uh. Here she is.”

He carefully put the phone down on the counter and raced to the front door. “Mom I met Connor Mason at school and he wants to take us to dinner, I can go if you’re too tired right?”

Mom blinked tiredly at him. “Rufus, honey, slow down. Who’s Connor Mason?”

“ _Mom!_ ” Rufus remembered just in time to keep his voice down, ‘cause the phone was off the hook in the kitchen. “The inventor!”

“Right,” Mom murmured. “Is he on the phone now?”

Rufus hovered, not sure she understood how big of a deal it was to be _talking to Connor Mason on the phone_. What if she didn’t say the right things? Mom saw him watching, and raised her eyebrow pointedly. Rufus wilted, and backed up. He was familiar with that eyebrow.

Mom’s half of the conversation sounded encouraging, though. When she hung up, she gave him the strangest look.

“What?” he finally said.

“Go put on your nice clothes, we’re going out to eat.”

Ugh, no, they didn’t even fit. “Moooom—”

“Rufus, a genius millionaire wants to take you out to dinner. _Put on your nice clothes_.”

“ _Fine_.”

“And then come tell me about your day while I get Kevin ready.”

* * *

“Rufus, let Mr. Mason get a few bites,” Mom said, with a pointed look at Mr. Mason’s still-full plate.

Mr. Mason made some ‘it doesn’t matter noise,’ but Rufus, unwillingly, bit back his next questions. What was he _supposed_ to do, just _not ask?_ When _Connor Mason_ was sitting _right there?_

“Take Kevin back through the buffet, Rufus,” Mom added.

So Rufus took Kevin by the hand and shepherded him through the buffet line again. It was an all-you-can-eat restaurant, which was great. Rufus couldn’t remember the last time his stomach had been this full, and he didn’t have to worry about Mom and Kevin getting a good meal, either.

They got back to the table, and Mom had a weird, sad look on her face when she looked at Kevin’s full plate.

“What?” Rufus asked. “I made sure he got vegetables and didn’t fill up on pudding.”

Mom shook her head, and the look vanished. “Nothing, baby.”

Rufus made sure Kevin’s napkin was tucked in tightly, and settled in happily. “So, um, I had this question about rocket propulsion…”

“Rufus,” Mom interrupted again a while later, “let the man _eat_ , honey.”

Rufus sat and brooded. Rebelliously. Connor Mason would be gone tomorrow, and Rufus would never see him again, and Mom thought his creamed peas were more important than Rufus’s questions.

Also, creamed peas looked like some kind of weird alien eggs or something, but Rufus knew better than to say _that_ out loud. (They did, though.)

“Can we get dessert?” Kevin asked hopefully, looking at Mom with big eyes. Rufus was too big for that to work any more, but his little brother wasn’t always.

“You may get _one_ dessert,” Mom said.

“All right. C’mon, Kev.” Rufus helped his brother down and took his hand again.

“That is three,” Mom said, when they returned.

“Yeah, one for each of us and one for you,” Rufus explained, handing her the plate.

“Cheesecake,” Mom said. “My, uh, favorite. How thoughtful of you.”

Mr. Mason might have smiled, but when Rufus looked again, his face was just normal serious.

Three bites into dessert and a man came up to the table. “Folks, we’re closing early tonight,” he said. “I’m gonna have to ask you to finish your food. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Rufus put his fork down. “What? Why?”

The man grimaced. “A little problem with the plumbing.”

Rufus looked at him pleadingly, but he’d already moved on to the next table. He turned his stare to Mom, who just kind of shrugged helplessly.

“Is there somewhere else we could go to talk?” Mr. Mason asked, looking from Rufus to Mom. “A, a diner, or…? I had some more questions for Rufus, actually. I heard there might be a robotics club starting in this area, and I wanted to get his opinion…”

A _robotics_ club? Rufus tried not to let himself hope. “This area” probably meant just Chicago in general, which meant it would be at one of those fancy pants private schools or magnet schools out in the rich white people suburbs. The ones Rufus would never in a million years get to go to.

But just maybe…

Mom gave Mr. Mason a long look. “You’re welcome at our house, as long as you’re not expecting anything fancy.”

Rufus froze, his daydream about the robotics club disappearing. Mr. Mason go back to _their_ house? But it was— shabby, and dirty, and— lots of things were broken—

“Mom, what are you doing?” Rufus hissed, when Mr. Mason went to pay. “We can’t take him to the house!”

“You were the one giving me the big sad eyes when the manager said it was time to leave, Rufus,” Mom said. “Where else are we supposed to go?”

“But— the _house_ , it’s—”

Mom seemed to hear what Rufus wasn’t saying. It was one of her Mom superpowers. She heard what he wasn’t saying, and she looked sad. “Don’t be ashamed of where you come from, Rufus,” she said quietly.

Rufus felt terrible. She worked so hard. And now she thought _he_ thought that wasn’t enough.

“I’m not,” he said. “’cause I come from you.”

Mom just stared at him, and her eyes got shiny, and he was afraid he’d said something wrong. Then he saw her little smile, and relaxed.

“Is, ah, everything all right?” Mr. Mason had returned, and was looking at Mom with worry.

Mom smiled. “Everything’s just fine, Mr. Mason.”

“Ah. Good. If you give me your address, I can find a cab.”

Her smile turned wry. “You’ll have a hard time finding a cab driver that’ll go to our neighborhood. You can ride with us.”

Rufus tried not to panic. ‘cause he didn’t want to be ashamed of what Mom’s hard work had gotten them, but still, the car was so old, and sputtered so much, and what if it broke down, and…

But if he wanted to ask Mr. Mason more questions, than they had to bring him back to the house. So Rufus would try real hard not to worry. And maybe if the car _did_ break down, then Rufus would be able to fix it, and Mr. Mason would be impressed, and…

No. He didn’t need to be a hero. He just needed them to get home okay, and for the guy who was one of Rufus’s own heroes to not be totally disgusted by where they lived.

Usually Rufus helped Kevin out of the car, but tonight he grabbed the keys from Mom and darted inside. He moved the ratty chair over the biggest stain in the carpet, shoved a shoe under the couch so it wouldn’t squeak, and casually put a cardboard box on top of the cushion with the springs poking out.

Mom gave him a bemused look when they got inside. She made sure their jackets got hung up and saw Kevin settled with his toys, then came to the couch. “Would you like any coffee, Mr. Mason?”

Rufus tried not to look at Mr. Mason. Coffee was Mom’s one indulgence and there was barely enough powder to last her to the end of the month.

Mr. Mason glanced at him. “Ah— no, thank you, though.”

“All right.”

Mr. Mason looked around the room, clearly looking for something to make conversation about. “That’s an impressive collection, Rufus.” He nodded to the wall of paper certificates from school, each carefully taped up in the place of honor by Mom.

“Thanks,” Rufus said. “Two are just perfect attendance, but the rest are good grades and science fairs.” Why had he said that? Mr. Mason could read. He worried at one hand with the other.

“Is this your first trip to Chicago?” Mom asked.

“Ah, no, I’m here on business a few times a year…”

The conversation continued, but Rufus wasn’t listening any more. He was staring through the door at the kitchen counter. At something moving on it.

He glanced at their guest in silent agony. There was another cockroach. It would get in the food and then they’d only have roach-infested food to eat for the rest of the month. But if he went out and dealt with it Mr. Mason would be disgusted and leave.

But there was a _roach_.

He turned it over and over in his mind, rubbing one thumb over the other. But the answer was clear. He was the man of the house. It was his duty to take care of this.

He got up, found Mom’s old shoe with the worn-through sole that they kept by the kitchen door for this reason, and waited with the lights off. The roach had scurried out of sight when it saw him, but—

_WHACK!_

For good measure he hit it one more time. Then he got the trash can and scraped the dead bug off the counter. Then he washed his hands.

When he returned to the living room, he didn’t dare look at Mr. Mason. Then he changed his mind and snapped his head up and stared defiantly. _Don’t be ashamed of where you came from._

 _That’s right,_ Rufus thought. _I take care of the roaches in this house. We do okay._

“God, that takes me back,” Mr. Mason said wryly. “That used to be my job, to keep the flat pest-free. Only in our case, it was mice.”

Rufus stared at him in disbelief as Mom shuddered.

He didn’t… he wasn’t…?

“Forgive my bluntness,” Mr. Mason added, glancing between the two of them, “but I know you both have obligations tomorrow, and there was a reason I wanted to keep talking to both of you. Why is Rufus at the school that he is?”

Mom’s jaw tightened. “That’s where we’re zoned for.”

“But there are magnet schools, aren’t there? I know private school would be out of the question financially, but one of the other public schools… Surely Rufus would meet the entrance requirements.”

“I applied to the science magnet school last year,” Rufus told him. “I was one of their top five applicants.” It wasn’t bragging. It was just true.

“Then why…?”

“It’s miles away, Mr. Mason,” Mom said quietly. “I can’t get him there in the morning. It’s too far for him to walk. And there’s no school bus.” She said it in that way she kept for talking about things she didn’t want anyone to know she was ashamed about. “We’d heard there was an arrangement with the city buses, but that turned out to be not true.”

“If that’s the difficulty, my foundation would be happy to provide bus fare,” Mr. Mason said. “Books, uniforms… whatever’s necessary.”

Mom gave Rufus a long look. “Rufus, get your brother into bed, please.”

 _But,_ Rufus thought, but he didn’t object out loud, though he knew Mom was just trying to get him out of the way. “A’ight. C’mon, Kev.”

“I don’t wanna sleep yet!” Kevin protested.

“You can stay up and look at a book for half an hour, but you have to be in bed.”

“And I want _you_ to say good night to me.”

“I will, baby,” she promised. “Once you’re in bed.”

Rufus took Kevin to the tiny bedroom they shared and helped him into his pajamas, then took him to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He wasn’t _trying_ to overhear. Their house was just so small he couldn’t help it. If they’d lived in a bigger house, he would’ve shamelessly eavesdropped, but he didn’t even have to.

“Mrs. Carlin, you know how incredibly bright Rufus is,” Mr. Mason was saying quietly. “If the only thing standing between him and a better education is _bus_ fare, it would be a damned shame to let that stop him when I can help.”

“It would have to be cab fare,” Mom said after a minute. She said it almost like a test. “The city buses don’t run at convenient times out to those suburbs.”

“Cab fare wouldn’t be a problem either. This is what my foundation is _for_.” A pause. “The magnet school offers advanced courses for college credit. They have a state of the art robotics workshop— they got a grant from my foundation. They go on field trips, they have summer camps… and we can help with all the expenses, of course.” Another pause. “And eighty-three percent of their graduates go on to a four year college.”

“You did your research.” Mom’s voice was a little wary.

“Well, yes, of course.” Mr. Mason sounded taken aback.

He had. And not just on the school, Rufus realized. When he called, he hadn’t said, _your parents and brother_. He’d said, _your mother and brother_.

“I grew up in a situation like this,” Mr. Mason continued. “Just me and my mom in a cold water flat. Never enough to eat. Never enough of anything. I made it, but I know there are kids just as bright as me— brighter— and the only difference is that I caught the one lucky break that I needed, and they never did. And that’s an _utter_ waste of talent.”

A long pause. “Kevin?” Mom called. “Are you ready for bed yet?”

 _Busted!_ Rufus quickly turned the tap on, though Kevin was still brushing the same two teeth over and over. “C’mon, you’ll have more time to look at the pictures if you hurry.”

But when he got back to the living room, Mr. Mason was getting his coat. _What?_ Rufus tried not to feel betrayed.

“Rufus, would you like to go to a magnet school?” Mr. Mason asked. “A school that specializes in science?”

“Yes!” Rufus nearly tripped over his own tongue, he was so eager to say it.

Mr. Mason’s smile was warm. “Then we’ll see if we can make that happen.” He held out his hand, and Rufus shook it. “I’ll probably be back in Chicago in the next few months. I’d love to take you all to supper again, if that would be all right.”

Rufus nodded vigorously.

“I’m taking Mr. Mason back to his hotel,” Mom said. “I shouldn’t be more than forty-five minutes. Don’t let Kevin stay up more than thirty minutes, _don’t_ answer the door—”

“I know, Mom.”

“— and stay away from the windows,” she finished. Mr. Mason looked taken aback, but this was routine for Rufus. “And tell Kevin I’ll say good night when I get back.”

“Okay.”

Rufus double checked the locks like he always did after Mom locked the door, not that the locks would stop anything. Then he settled down with the rest of his homework. He maybe kinda lost track of time when it came to Kevin, but it was a _book_. A few extra pictures never hurt anyone.

Mom came home safe, said good night to Kevin, and went back to the kitchen. Rufus followed her, and watched her take off her shoes with a relieved slump, just like she did every night. “Mr. Mason wants to send you to that magnet school,” she said quietly, as she opened the refrigerator. “We’re gonna get down on our knees and thank God for this, Rufus.”

Rufus already knew no one was listening. But he wouldn’t say that to Mom. He was the man of the house, and sometimes that meant keeping his mouth shut.

“How would you get Kevin to and from daycare every day?” he asked.

“I’ll figure it out.” She said it defiantly. It reminded him of earlier. “I may not be able to solve everything for my children, but I can do this.”

Her voice shook and sounded a little strange. But it evened out when she added, “You be sure to talk to Miss Hayes and ask for that application tomorrow.”

Rufus nodded.

“Is your homework done?”

Rufus nodded again, then remembered. “Almost.”

“Then hurry up and take care of the _almost_. It’s been an exciting day and I want you to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, Mom.” He went to get his backpack and finished up the last of that poem, which didn’t seem as stupid now as it had before. He was tempted to half-ass the very last answer, but he didn’t. Half-assing things wouldn’t get him anywhere.

Finally he was done and shoved everything back in his backpack in a hurry. “I’m gonna finish my library book.” It was on differential equations, and he only had thirty pages left.

“I don’t want you up too late, Rufus. You don’t know what tomorrow will be like.”

“Probably not as cool as today,” he offered.

Mom smiled. “You never know.”

By the time he finished his book, Mom was giving him pointed looks, but hadn’t actually told him to go to bed. Yet. She gave him a good night kiss— Mom kisses didn’t have cooties like kisses from non-mom-girls— and Rufus went to get into his pajamas.

Magnet school. _Robotics_ club. He almost was afraid to get his hopes up, ‘cause stuff like this didn’t happen to people like them. But…

Nope. He was just gonna go ahead and dream. By the time he’d brushed his teeth, he’d thought through a whole daydream about being a NASA scientist in ten years. And…

He came back to earth when the handle of the tap came off in his hand again, and he had to screw it on carefully, again. Someday, he was going to learn _everything_ , and then he and Mom and Kevin could all live somewhere where everything _worked_.

Someday.

He went to bed, and dreamed about riding a robot to college.

**Author's Note:**

> Donate to the fund here to unlock further fics! https://www.mightycause.com/story/Gddmig
> 
> For October - December 2019, the Rufus Carlin Scholarship Fund is in honor of our favorite pilot and computer geek, Rufus Carlin, with all donations going directly to [NACME (National Action Council for Minorities in Engineering)](https://www.nacme.org/). Just as Connor Mason gave Rufus the opportunity to do great things that he wouldn't have had otherwise, so we as Timeless fans want to honor our favorite show by helping NACME help the Rufuses, Jiyas, and Connors of the real world.
> 
> The Timeless Charity Project was founded by a group of passionate Timeless fans who wanted to overcome all divisive elements of fandom simply to give back to great causes inspired by our love for this show. We come from a variety of backgrounds (and shipping preferences), working toward a common goal - making our present timeline a better place for all. In light of this, the authors of these works have chosen to remain anonymous for the time being, so as to keep the focus on the charity fund and the works themselves.


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